The Secret Country

by PAMELA DEAN

  “Ruthie, don’t,” said Ted, putting his hand out too. Randolph caught his wrist, and looked at him as if he too were crazy. Ted seemed about to try to wrench his arm away, but then he gave up and stood glowering.

  Ruth’s hand came down on the knife. There was not a sound in the stairwell. Ruth’s lips moved briefly and she opened her eyes. “Blow time awry for this!” she said, and the jewels in the knife hilt went dark. Laura was impressed. At least things were working properly for Ruth.

  “Well!” said Ruth, pleased. She handed the knife to Fence, who flinched but took it and bowed to her, in the narrow stairway, without knocking anybody over. Randolph let go of Ted and they all began to climb again.

  Patrick was standing in the open door to Fence’s living room with a rug over his shoulders and a sword in his hand. Both were too big for him.

  When he had looked everybody over, he moved to let them in and put the sword on the mantelpiece. It was warmer inside, but it was not warm. Fence gestured at the fireplace, and flames leaped up again.

  “It was a warm day for so cold a night,” he said.

  “There is nothing amiss with the night,” said Randolph, sitting down where he had sat for dinner.

  Fence brought another chair to the table for Ruth, between Randolph and Patrick. Everyone else sat in his old place. Fence put both hands around the wine jug, and when he poured the wine, it steamed.

  “Before anyone else pounds upon my door with urgent summons,” he said, “I will have my spies’ reports.”

  So Laura and Patrick and Ellen recited their parts, while Ted and Ruth sat with their mouths falling open. Fence made Ellen repeat one thing twice, and Laura two things. During Patrick’s recitation of how the kitchen staff would not let an undercook magic the soup to make up for having left out the saffron, Laura saw Randolph look over at Fence, who grimaced at him. But that was all the reaction they got, and the whole thing was quickly over.

  “Well done,” Fence said to them. “You have earned your rest, and ’twere best you go to’t. Agatha will have my head on a pole if she discovers how late I have kept you.”

  Ellen jerked herself up from where she had been falling asleep in Ruth’s lap. “But what happened at the council?”

  “And where’s Claudia?” said Laura.

  “What do you mean, where’s Claudia?” said Patrick, coming suddenly out of his slouch.

  “Naught happened,” said Randolph. “Fence and Andrew aired their philosophies.”

  “Who won?” said Ellen.

  “None wins in the airing of philosophies,” said Fence, patiently.

  “What did the King think?” persisted Ellen.

  “He said not,” said Fence.

  “Ellie,” said Ted, “go to bed.” She looked at him, outraged, and he mouthed, “I’ll tell you later,” at her. Ellen shrugged. Fence’s mouth quirked.

  “Where’s Claudia?” repeated Laura. She felt that it was necessary to keep track of Claudia, much as it was necessary to keep track of a large puppy. They both made trouble when you weren’t looking.

  “Claudia came to the council,” said Fence.

  “What about your spell?” said Ellen.

  “She broke it,” said Fence, shortly. “She came to the council and I made accusation of her, which she chose not to answer. She was taken to the South Tower. If she chooses to stay there and be tried, which she well may if ’t amuses her, all of us save Ruth may be called as witnesses. If she hath not chosen to stay she is no doubt wherever it pleases her to be. I could discover her with some effort. Without her knife she is, I think, less menace than nuisance. Randolph and I will make shift to deal with her, with Lady Ruth’s help.” Ruth looked nonplussed.

  “How does she do all this?” said Ellen.

  “Peace,” said Fence.

  “I’m sorry,” said Ellen to Fence. “Only nobody knows anything, and anything can happen.”

  Randolph reached out and patted her head. Ellen glowered but sat still under it, like a well-trained cat. “Anything may usually happen,” he said to her. “Get thee to bed—and thee, and thee.”

  Laura and Ellen got up, reluctantly, and came around to Fence, Patrick on their heels. “Thank you for dinner,” they said, almost in chorus. Ellen burst out laughing, and Patrick looked disgusted.

  Fence smiled. “And for thy aid,” he said. He kissed Laura. Laura, looking back over her shoulder as he kissed Ellen, saw Patrick’s eyes grow wary. He took Fence’s kiss as Ellen had taken the pat on the head, and came quickly away, hunching his shoulders.

  Randolph came to bar the door behind them, but he stood in the doorway watching them go down, and under even his imagined gaze they were quite silent. It was deathly cold in the stairwell, and every shadow looked like a beast about to appear.

  CHAPTER 16

  WHEN the younger ones had disappeared down the steps, Ted began to say something to Fence, and saw with dismay that Fence had put his head into his hands. Ted and Ruth looked at one another. When Randolph shut the door behind Patrick and came to stand by Fence’s chair, Fence still did not move.

  “Let it wait upon the morning,” Randolph said, and his look was anxious.

  “Claudia waiteth not,” said Fence into his hands.

  Randolph was silent, and the four of them sat listening to the fire. Ted was very sleepy. Even with the fire, a cold crept out of the corners that made him expect to hear the wind howling outside. He looked at Ruth. He had to warn her about using Shan’s Ring. He wondered what else she might have been using it for.

  Fence took his head out of his hands, and Randolph moved to sit on the edge of the table.

  “Three matters,” said Fence. “This cold, Claudia, and Edward’s performance at dinner.”

  Ruth looked a question at Ted, who scowled at her.

  “I had not thought the cold was Claudia’s doing,” said Randolph. “I had thought it one of the workings of the Dragon King. And proof of thy observations, if any heeded. But when thou didst arrive, the cold was lessened.”

  “And lessened also,” said Fence, “for that short time she held in my spell.”

  “To make the cold,” said Randolph, slowly, “is neither Green nor Blue sorcery, but yellow. Her studies have been wide. Heaven grant they have not been deep also.”

  “Claudia, then,” said Fence, and he looked at Ruth. “I am in your hands.”

  Ted admired Ruth; she hardly blanched. “Well,” she said, “I can do to her what I did to the knife.”

  “How long does such an enchantment endure?” Randolph asked her.

  Ruth did not even hesitate. “A year and a day,” said she.

  Fence whistled, and Ted jumped.

  “I wonder if I have missed my calling,” said Fence.

  Randolph laughed. “Each magic hath his benefits.”

  “After all,” said Ruth, “I can stop Claudia, but you have to find her for me first.”

  Both Randolph and Fence looked astonished, and Ted wished he knew more about the magics of the Secret Country. If Ruth were winging it, she ought to stop.

  “I’m only a student,” said Ruth, so crossly that Ted knew that she had been winging it.

  “Randolph,” said Fence, “how is thy searching eye?”

  “Sharp enough,” said Randolph. He went to one of the carved chests, took a mirror from it, and left the room.

  “Ruth,” said Ted.

  “Edward,” said Fence, “have a care.”

  “I just want to say,” said Ted, “that she shouldn’t do to Claudia what she did to the knife.”

  “It won’t hurt her,” said Ruth.

  “It might hurt us.”

  Randolph came briskly in, laying the mirror on the table before Fence.

  “Is that she?” he asked. He sounded put out.

  Ted and Ruth craned to see into the mirror. It showed a tower room much like the one they were in, except that it had a bed and fewer tapestries. There was a shadow on the floor, but no figure to cast it.

&
nbsp; Fence put both hands through his hair, but he could not make it look much worse. Ted wondered who had cut it that way, and why. Fence turned the mirror around, tilting it, and sighed. “Of a certainty,” he said. “Is that the South Tower?”

  Randolph nodded.

  “Go we there,” said Fence to Ruth. He looked at Randolph. “Canst deal with this miscreant?”

  “Better than thou,” said Randolph, with an emphasis Ted did not care for.

  Fence gripped the edge of the table and started to stand up, and Randolph moved quickly and almost lifted him out of his chair. Fence looked at him reproachfully. Randolph shook his head, and Fence laughed.

  “Thou wilt be my greatest comfort in mine old age,” he said, “if only thou dost not tire of cosseting me sooner. My lady,” he said to Ruth. Ruth stood up.

  “Wait!” said Ted.

  “Be quick,” said Fence.

  “Ruthie,” said Ted, using the pet name and trying to catch her eye and strengthen his speech with significant gestures so she would know that it was he, Ted, and not a besotted Edward worried for her safety, who was talking. “You can’t use that spell on Claudia.”

  “Why?” said Ruth, warily, in her sorcerer voice.

  “It’s very dangerous!”

  All three of them stared at him. Their expressions were exactly alike: the condescending and slightly impatient look of an expert faced with a wrongheaded amateur. Ted felt as if he had told his French teacher that oeuf meant ear.

  “I know what I’m doing,” Ruth told him, making faces so that he would know that it was she, not Lady Ruth, who spoke. She seemed quite irritated and a little frightened, and Ted was not reassured. She was probably just afraid that he would give her away, or make her give herself away, to Fence and Randolph.

  “I know what I’m doing too,” he said.

  “Time arrays itself against us,” said Fence to Ruth.

  “Calm down,” said Ruth to Ted.

  Ted felt desperate, and decided to beat her at their own game. “I command you not to do this thing!”

  Ruth burst out laughing. Fence’s mouth quirked.

  Randolph, looking acutely unhappy, said in a constrained tone, “I beg to remind Your Highness that no worker of magic is at your command.”

  “You stop them, then!”

  Randolph’s face set in formidable lines, but his voice was very gentle. “I am an apprentice,” he said. “In all earthly matters I obey you, my lord, but in the matter of magic even I am no servant of yours. I earnestly regret it.”

  Fence by this time looked actually sick. “And I,” he said.

  “Go,” said Randolph, and opened the door for them. When they had gone and he had bolted it, he swung on Ted like a cat pouncing.

  “Are you mad?”

  Ted opened his mouth to reply, and a hot tear slid into the corner of it, startling him. He had been aware of no emotion save wrath. He swallowed, felt his face crumpling up, and turned around hastily. Standing up to Andrew, who was a villain, or even to the King, who was wrongheaded, was one thing. But he hated fighting with Fence and Randolph. He hated losing to them even more.

  He wrapped both arms around himself and stared at the watery rug. His vision cleared gradually, and he saw that the rug really was watery. It depicted a fountain crowded about with animals. Ted wanted to be intrigued by it, but that would have been an excuse. He had to face Randolph sooner or later.

  He turned slowly, still hugging himself. Randolph stood just where Ted had left him, his grave and troubled gaze bent steadily on Ted. Ted refrained from backing away.

  “Now, Edward, what’s the matter?” said Randolph.

  “What isn’t?” said Ted, stalling.

  Randolph sat down on the edge of the table and reached for his cup. “Art thou still my rival, then?”

  “No, it’s not that,” said Ted, so miserably that he could tell at once how very unconvincing Randolph found this assertion.

  He wondered if he should simply tell Randolph the truth, but all his instincts rebelled. In the first place, the others should approve such a drastic step: It was their game, or their adventure, or their necks too. After all, if Shan’s Ring did what he thought it might, they would all be in terrible trouble for using it. And if they were not really the royal children, there was nothing to stop everyone from deciding that they were spies. They might be just the people Andrew was looking for.

  “My God,” said Ted.

  “I beg your pardon?” said Randolph.

  “Sorry,” said Ted. “Nothing.”

  His knees were so shaky that he sat down across from Randolph. He felt as if someone had just hit him in the stomach. He could not imagine why none of them had thought of this sooner. If the Secret Country were real, then where were the real princes and princesses? Back with the Barretts, wreaking havoc? No, of course not, or the Barretts would have had something to say about it when he and Laura got back. Where, then?

  Ted felt suffocated. He had to talk to the others immediately. But Randolph still regarded him gravely, and would have to have some sort of explanation.

  “Andrew bothers me,” Ted told him. “I don’t like the way he’s disrupting everything. How did he get the King to pay so much attention to him anyway?”

  Randolph put his cup down. “Perhaps because thou hast paid so little to the King?”

  Ted was confounded, and said nothing. He supposed that if Prince Edward were as shy and bookish as they had made him in the Secret, he would have been too scared and too absorbed to pay much attention to the King.

  “Not thou alone,” said Randolph. “He is a warrior, and his favorites wizards all: Benjamin, Conrad, and even I. Thou art no wizard, but thou preferrest thy books to thy sword. No man likes a wizard, who hath not some magic himself, and William hath none. ’Tis said it passeth from grandsire to grandchild, missing the son.” He had sounded more and more as if he were thinking aloud; now he shrugged and smiled. “Thou seest,” he said.

  Ted was not sure either that he saw or that he did not. “Anyway, that’s not the point,” he said. “You know he’ll do it Andrew’s way, and you know what’ll happen if he does. What are we going to do to make him change his mind?”

  “It may be that we cannot,” said Randolph. “But if we can, the answer lies in just such things as I have said. Reason hath little power here. If thou wouldst thy father thought well of wizards, ’twere well thou see to’t that he thinks well of thee.”

  “So maybe it was a good idea to jump on Andrew?” said Ted.

  “Didst not know when thou didst it?” demanded Randolph.

  “Know what?” said Ted, confused.

  Randolph pulled the circlet from his head, turned it in his fingers, and jammed it back onto his head as if he were slamming a door he knew would pop open again. “When you flung yourself upon Andrew,” he said carefully, “did you not think it was wise to do so?”

  “I didn’t think it was anything to do so,” said Ted, irritated. Part of him still itched to go after Ruth and stop her from using Shan’s Ring, and this conversation no longer had anything in it to make up for wasting that opportunity.

  “Angels and ministers of grace defend us,” said Randolph, and something in the quality of his voice told Ted that he was quoting Benjamin.

  “He made me angry,” said Ted.

  “What hath come over thee?” Randolph asked him. “Time was when neither taunts nor blows could make thee angry.”

  “Isn’t it better this way?” said Ted.

  “Not if thou must show it thus. Answer Andrew with worse words—draw and challenge and be done with it—but this starting what thou wilt not finish is madness. Besides, ’twere better not to quarrel with Andrew, who has thy father’s ear, and is useful in his fashion. And furthermore,” said Randolph, gesturing with both hands as if he would have liked to take Ted and shake him, “if thou must flout what hath been taught thee, I prithee flout not what I have taught thee so that thy father cast an angry eye on me as well.”r />
  “Oh,” said Ted. “Sorry.”

  “Flouting what I taught thee,” added Randolph, “in defense of a wizard. Oh, Edward, when follies come they come not single spies but in battalions.”

  Ted wished he had not mentioned spies, even in a figure of speech. “But what are we going to do about Andrew?” he said. “It’s a bit late for me to start being a model son.”

  “How late?” said Randolph.

  “Well, Benjamin said—”

  “Ah,” said Randolph. “To win quickly, cleanly, easily, and with small loss, far from our borders, we must indeed do as Benjamin says. To win a bloodier battle perilously close, we have yet a few months.”

  “Well,” said Ted, “I’ll do what I can.” He hesitated. “I’m really sorry, Randolph, but everything’s just falling apart.”

  Randolph frowned, but his voice was kinder. “Make shift to gather the pieces together, then, and kick them not asunder like a child with a frozen puddle,” he said.

  “May I go now, please?” said Ted.

  Randolph nodded. “And ease thy mind,” he said. “All may yet be very well.”

  As Ted left he saw Randolph settling himself by the fire to wait for Fence.

  Fence’s living room had not been warm, but the stairwell was like stepping into cold water. Ted’s breath steamed away from him and made an eerie mist in the purple light. It seemed to be growing warmer as he went on down. Ted was not sure that this made sense, because warm air rises. He was pondering this problem and wondering if the knowledge he could gain would be worth the trouble of asking Patrick for it, when quite abruptly the stairwell became warm.

  Ted almost fell down the steps. He was not sure he liked the change. Presumably it was better for a castle to be warm in the middle of the summer, but it could hardly be natural for it to change so fast from being cold. He wondered if using Shan’s Ring could do that.

  “Claudia,” he said aloud. If Claudia had been making the cold, and Ruth had used Shan’s Ring on her, Claudia would not be able to make the cold anymore, and things would go back to normal.

  Ted almost fell down the steps again, as the tower shook itself and made grinding noises. Ted moved faster. He had half thought of waiting for Fence in the stairwell, but now he wanted nothing to do with it.